


Adventures in Hotel Management

by Chill_with_Penguins



Series: Sebaciel Week 2018 (Aug. 7th - Aug. 10) [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: AH YES, Alternate Universe - Real World, And posted now because that's how my life works, Fluff, M/M, Written for 2018 Sebaciel Week, ciel is done with your shit, literally just fluff, neither of them are demons or anything, surely that's a thing, the classic "small business owner partners" trope, they own an inn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 00:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20984966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chill_with_Penguins/pseuds/Chill_with_Penguins
Summary: "Another complaint?" Sebastian asks, his gaze zeroing in on Ciel's hand."Yes," he exhales. "At least this one didn't threaten to sue."Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Honestly, I don't know what that man was so upset about. I was doing him a favor.""You almost killed his Yorkie. With hot bathwater," Ciel reminds him.His partner sniffs, near-red eyes flickering with dark humour. "Like I said, I was doing him a favour. If that ratty little dog had died perhaps he would have picked a better animal--like a cat, for instance.""He was on his way to a dog show, Sebastian. It was literally a show dog.""And? I'm not taking back my statement."





	Adventures in Hotel Management

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sebaciel Week 2018, Aug. 7th. The prompt was On the Job and this bullshit is what my ridiculously fluffly mind came up with, lol

The thing about running a business with a partner, Ciel has come to realize over the years, is that it means you have a partner. Somebody to take over on your sick days and cover your shifts, sure, but also someone whose monumental failures at life you couldn't ignore completely, or deal with by just firing them. 

He looks down forlornly at yet another guest complaint, the off-white paper crinkling slightly in his hand while the lights in his office buzz disconcertingly. 

When he and Sebastian had decided to open their own hotel--named the Manor, in a fit of emotions he still blames Sebastian for completely--it had seemed obvious how the duties should be provided. Sebastian was already performing feats of cleaning with near-magic abilities, and Ciel was... Well. Ciel, in his rich and varied private education, had been instructed in four languages, three instruments, and enough business, finance, and marketing skills to take over any large corporation that he wished one day. He had just never quite gotten around to learning how to deal with people. 

So Ciel took the office tucked away, just off of the registration area, and a couple of balancing books, and left Sebastian in charge of hiring and running the interpersonal services--managing the kitchens, the cleaning, the guest satisfaction, all the things that would just end in Ciel finding a table to stand on so he could yell properly without having to look up at the imbeciles around him. 

And now he's here, reading the fifth complaint this month about the temperature of the water in the bathrooms alone. Which he totally gets, okay? He does. The woman was understandably upset about the amount of steam that was clogging up her room, and how she had to rush through washing her hands, and he gets all that, but still. It was just a teensy, tiny second-degree burn--did that really require seven exclamation marks? 

He sighs, rubs his eyes, and wonders what it must be like for everyone with normal lives. He's still got a pile almost as tall of him of supplies to order and next month's budget to balance and the pool renovations to double-check on and--

There's a loud crash from the kitchen next door, followed by a lot of shouting that turns to silence almost instantly, and he can already picture the sheepish look on his employees' faces as yet another over-priced appliance gets rolled out the door. 

God. He hopes it wasn't the stove.

He could really use a cup of tea right about now. 

"Er, Mr. Phantomhive? Seems we have a tiny bit of a situation here," Bard says, barely peeking one eye around the edge of the doorway. 

For a just a minute, he considers calling this whole thing off. He's probably still got enough from the insurance payout after the fire that he could just run away from the gigantic, steaming mess he calls his life and get some little cabin on a beach somewhere. He could do it--just walk away and... well, he doesn't really know. Exist? 

"See, the problem is that when Mey-Rin was trying to put out the grease fire she accidentally knocked over the spice rack--which is fine! Everything but the old spice is still sealed and contained, and who even needs old spice, right? But, see, when the spice rack fell we kind of... maybe... freakedoutandknockedoverthecappuccinomakerpleasedon'tbemad."

Ciel sighs again. Is his hair turning gray? Because it kinda feels like his hair should be turning gray. 

"Thank you, Bard, I'll take it from here," Sebastian says from the doorway, his voice low and amused. Ciel dares a glance up, and--yep. There's the AssholeTM look, the one that's smarmy and superior and just a little bit shy of a snicker. 

"Another complaint?" Sebastian asks, his gaze zeroing in on Ciel's hand. 

"Yes," he exhales. "At least this one didn't threaten to sue."

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Honestly, I don't know what that man was so upset about. I was doing him a favor."

"You almost killed his Yorkie. With hot bathwater," Ciel reminds him. 

His partner sniffs, near-red eyes flickering with dark humour. "Like I said, I was doing him a favour. If that ratty little dog had died perhaps he would have picked a better animal--like a cat, for instance."

"He was on his way to a dog show, Sebastian. It was literally a show dog."

"And? I'm not taking back my statement."

Ciel huffs a laugh, because it's been a really long fucking day and it's either laugh or break down into hysterical tears at this point. "Just... I know that you like your water a little hot, and I respect that, but please, for the sake of our guests, our business, and my sanity, turn it down a little, okay? Part of running a hotel is sacrificing personal preference for guest satisfaction. That's most of running a hotel, actually."

Sebastian sighs like it's a big deal, but Ciel can already read the acknowledgement on his face. He's softened slightly, leaning more fully against the door, and he's looking at Ciel with more concern than his usual business-partner face. 

"You look exhausted. Come to bed early tonight, okay?" 

"I will," Ciel says, smile soft and understanding. 

"Very well. In that case, I'm going to go take care of our latest catastrophe in the kitchen. See you later?" Sebastian says, less of a question than a promise, and leans in for a kiss. 

"Yeah," Ciel says when he pulls away. "See you later."

He could leave--could up and go, find some tiny, secluded plot of land and hide from the world--but as he watches his lover walk away to take care of whatever had broken now, he thinks he wouldn't mind staying here a little longer. 

He doesn't say it, or even think it, really, because it's less a thought than a gut instinct, but he supposes he wouldn't exactly object to a lifetime spent like this. At the very least, he can think of worse ways to spend his years.


End file.
